


let there be light

by Hornet394



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 1950s, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Historical, Communism, Communist China, Gay Sex, I Say, Internalized Homophobia, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-War, War, alcohol appears a lot, all good though, alternatively titled brokeback farm, did i mention this fic is alternatively titled brokeback farm?, everyone is a communist, for the longest time i called this 'the commie fic', i kid, not much angst though, they get drunk a lot, though i mean it when i say everyone's technically a communist, yifan is a communist, yixing is a communist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 09:03:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hornet394/pseuds/Hornet394
Summary: Yifan’s younger brother volunteers to take his place in the war, but someone else returns home with his brother's belongings.





	let there be light

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for you, sugar! I'm so sorry I couldn't finish this in time for your fest, but finally I got around to finishing it uwu  
> Thanks to the kfx mods for letting me slip this in last minute!

 

Yifan and Sehun were close brothers, to the delight of their parents. They were born one year apart, but Yifan took his older brother responsibilities seriously, and Sehun had a hero complex. They never really fought with each other, or fell out with each other. Their rebellious teenage years passed without much fanfare, which their parents were thankful for.

Then Yifan’s father broke his leg just as the horns of war began to call for the sons of the nation.

Minseok, the only military man in the village, had knocked on their door with a grim expression on his face. He’d removed his cap and hung up his coat, then had their whole family sit down as he explained their options.

“You are party members.” Minseok said calmly, nodding towards the fields that, a few decades ago, belonged to someone who is now ten feet below the earth. “One of you must fight in this war.”

There was not much to be decided. Their choices were limited. Sehun was supposed to go to school and go to the city, he did not know enough of the field. Yifan needed to stay. Yifan’s father locked himself in his room with cheap brew as Minseok helped Sehun pack. Their mother came out, tearful, wringing her hands, cursing herself for her woman’s body. She gave Sehun a charm of peace, a small, handwoven fabric that she pinned onto his bag.

Sehun and Minseok, along with the other young men of the village, are gone before day breaks, having to catch the first train that leads them into the city. Yifan made one last hike to the school to tell the teacher that Sehun won’t be coming in anymore, before realizing the teacher’s gone to war, too.

He trekked back home and started work on the field.

It is truly painful for Yifan to remain. He doesn’t value war, of course, he’d never want to lose his life in such an affair. He’d never put himself in danger.

But it is painful to remain, because he has no goal in life anymore. Day after day, fulfilling his obligations, staring into empty air. He can’t stop, because he needs to feed himself, needs to feed his parents. At least they give him purpose.

And the letters from Sehun, the letters! They come every month, and then every two months, three months, four months, and the war wages on forever, and the village rarely bring up their lost young men.

Yifan’s father’s legs heal, but they don’t heal right. It hurts once it rains, but the fields need the rain. He can’t help in the fields either. His waist isn’t what it used to be, moreover, they don’t want the other neighbours to accuse them of cheating, that they had two men helping out when all of the other families had only one man left to tend to the fields.

Their village is far away enough from the cities and towns that they don’t know much of what is happening to their nation in the meantime. They have lynched their landlords, their intellectuals, and the nation only remembers them when they need cannon fodder. When Sehun’s letters stop reaching them, when all the letters to all the families dry up, there is nobody they can go to, there is no way they know what is happening.

So Yifan’s heart grows numb. Sehun’s room is covered with dust. Yifan’s mother falls ill one day, suddenly collapsing while she is carrying a plate to the table, coughing and retching blood. The village pools in and manages to get her and Yifan into town to see a proper doctor. The terminology flies over Yifan’s head, he just knows there is something wrong with his mother’s lungs, but the thing that lingers in his head is that they can’t afford the medicine, or the regular check-ups, or the therapy the doctor wants to put her through.

The doctor understands gladly and takes their money.

And this disease cripples her. Soon her limbs lose energy and her hair begins to fall. Her skin becomes sunken and deep, far further than most women her age is. Yifan’s father has to hobble out onto the fields now, doing the families’ share of work.

Finally, finally, he sits Yifan down one day. “We need an extra pair of hands for the field.” He states.

“I agree.” Yifan answers.

“What do you think of the Li family girl?” He asks gruffly. “The younger one.”

Yifan swallows. “She’s alright.”

“Good.” Yifan’s father says crisply. “I have some money hidden. I will go to Madame Ping tomorrow, so she can start organizing your proposal. You’re a bit young, just eighteen, so we will have to pay her extra.”

Yifan doesn’t particularly like Madame Ping very much, a conniving old woman whose words are like syrup, charming young men and women alike in one another, but he nods.

Then Minseok comes back and marriage plans fall into dust, because Yifan doesn’t need a wife anymore.

Minseok comes back with ghosts in his brain, and five out of nineteen of the young men that had left with him.

Sehun isn’t one of them, and Yifan supports his father home.

“Drink with me,” his father says as they return home. Yifan looks at him with alarm, but his father just uncorks a bottle of something and hands it to Yifan.

When they get the knock, they are both inebriated, and Yifan smashes against the wall before he manages to grab the handle of the house. There’s someone standing outside the door, with Sehun’s bag slung over his back.

“Y’re n’t S’h’n,” he mumbles stupidly. The stranger says something that Yifan’s brain cannot compute, but automatically he’s moving out of the way for the stranger to come in.  Yifan’s father squints. 

“Who are you?” He asks, slightly more sober than Yifan.

The stranger gives a garbled reply and Yifan slumps against the wall, a weird sensation of liquid sloshing in his head, then he loses consciousness.

 

//

 

When he comes to, the sun is shining bright through the window. There’s a cold bowl of  _ xingjiutang _ on the bed-side table. The taste makes him grimace, but he downs the soup and leaves his room.

His head is pounding with an unfamiliar sensation, but he forces himself to greet his mother, who’s squatted outside the house, picking at the wheat. “Aiyo, my boy is finally an adult.” She says drily, as if she had not just been made aware that she had lost one of her own sons. “Go take lunch to your father and Yixing.”

“Yixing?” Yifan asks, but his mother just pats her hands off her skirt and hands Yifan a bag with three lunch boxes.

Yifan’s family are allocated lands that are fairly close to them, to their luck. It is midday, there are not that many people around, so Yifan cycles there unhurriedly without much distractions. He has to pass by a few fields - those who are lucky to have their sons back are rejoicing at the extra manpower, others not so much.

His father is sitting atop the tractor, and Yifan just watches the harvester rumble slowly, churning through the land. It takes him a while to spot the other man scuttling behind the machine, a basket on his back as he gathers all the fallen wheat. That’s meant to be Yifan’s job, but it seems this... Yixing person has beat him to it.

“Father!” He calls out, and both men turn to look at him.

“Son,” the man greets, amusement clear in his eyes as he looks at Yifan, still in his hangover state. “Good morning.” The sun is high up in the sky and Yifan flushes, but he holds up the lunch boxes in question.

The metal tins are hot to touch from the heat, and Yifan carefully climbs up the back of their truck and takes the tins out, laying them on the bamboo covering.

Yifan’s father climbs down slowly from the tractor, and Yifan watches as the mysterious young man - Yixing - goes and helps the old man down.

“You must be Yixing,” Yifan calls when they get close, getting off the truth to nod in greeting and hold a hand out. “I’m Yifan.”

Yixing nods back in return, grasping Yifan’s hand firmly yet gently. Both hands are calloused, but for different reasons.

“I apologize for my behaviour last night,” Yifan first says. “I hope I did not offend you.”

“We all have those moments,” Yixing answers airily. “I, for one, am glad I am able to meet you. I was just telling your father about how brave Sehun fought.”

Yifan almost drops his lunch box, and his voice is shaking when he croaks out, “Sehun?”

Yifan’s father glances at him. “Yixing here served alongside Sehun in the war,” He answers gruffly, “He took his time to come here in order to honour Sehun’s... wish.”

Yifan just stares at his lunch box dumbly.

Yifan’s father pats him on the back, digging into his lunchbox, clearly not looking for more conversation.

Yifan manages to finish everything, in the end, but just before he is to get up and start work, Yixing nods to him, “If it is any consolation, Sehun was buried honourably.”

The nod Yifan returns is jerky and awkward, but the message seems to be conveyed.

Yixing is a nice, hardworking young man. He is fit from military service, more so than Yifan. He wakes up every morning at a fixed time and retires to his room early. Thankfully this works perfectly with the family’s own schedule to tend the fields.

It’s good to have an extra pair of hands, now that they actually have it. Yifan’s father can put his feet up in the tractor as Yixing and Yifan scurry around the field, preparing it for the harvest that is to come.

Yixing is quick on his feet, all smiles even as the unforgiving sun beats down on their bare skin. Yixing’s skin is a bit tan, and he’s all lean muscle which, for some reason, distracts Yifan when they take their shirt off to start working.

He’s just never seen someone built like that before, for speed and explosive power, he tells himself. Did Sehun mature like that, too, when he was gone?

But Yixing startles easily, too. The way he turns around when there is a sudden sound is like that of a small rabbit, a fragile animal freezing up, ready to flee. Yifan’s mother had said offhandedly once, what a regret it was that Yixing was to live with ghosts.

Yifan had argued that there were no ghosts, they were nothing but old midwives tales, but Yifan’s mother just admonishes him with a quick swat on the back of his head and tells him to shut up. 

“Sehun always said this was his favourite spot.” Yixing says, when Yifan joins him below the apple tree some ways up the mountain that brackets their village.

“It’s dirty,” Yifan just says, but he sits down all the same, grimacing when his palm almost smashes into one of the rotten apples, half-destroyed by an animal.

“He said you would say that too.” Yixing smile widens deeply, and Yifan wonders if it is only the mention of Sehun which can elicit such a genuine, youthful smile on the other man’s face. Then Yixing turns that gaze onto him.

There is something inherent about Yixing that makes Yifan soften. It is not something he would have expected from a military man such as Yixing, but it something that eases Yifan. 

Sometimes Yifan’s father accidentally calls Yixing by Sehun’s name, sometimes Yifan’s mother cooks Sehun’s favourite food and treats it as Yixing’s as well, and Yixing never corrects them.

As he comes to terms with the fact that Sehun was never coming home, Yixing’s presence helped a lot.

Yixing knows a lot about their village - Sehun seemed to have said a lot, but knowing it and seeing it are two completely different things. Yifan delights in showing Yixing the places he knew only in words, and see how his eyes light up in recognition. Sometimes, though, he is slightly envious of the fact that all of these common memories are all predated by his brother’s descriptions.

So he makes new ones with Yixing. Yixing may be accustomed to field work now, but he is a city boy through and through. Yifan teaches Yixing how to ride on a donkey, he watches as Yixing’s fingers card gently through the mule’s fur, soothing the animal. Yifan takes Yixing to the places he had never even taken Sehun - a cave, abandoned by a predator; Auntie Bai’s house and her constant stream of stray cats coming and going; The empty field behind the squadrons’ residences, where they could lie on their backs and look up into the clouds in the sky, then the stars, then the clouds again.

This winter is not cold enough for snow to fall, and Yixing learns how to grow onions.

Yixing spends six months with them. It is not long, it is not short. Sometimes it is like having Sehun back again, having an extra pair of hands in the fields, having someone to chat to when his father was high up in the tractor. Someone to fill in the fourth empty seat at the table, someone to laugh with, work with.

But more often than not Yifan is reminded of how different Yixing is, and how Sehun is never coming back.

 

//

 

Heavy rapping on the door wakes Yifan up. He sits up blearily, in a daze, wondering what on earth was going on. The sky is too dark, he shouldn’t be woken up now.

Stumbling towards the door, he throws it open to see his equally irate father making his way to the front door, while Yixing has also poked his head out from his room, seemingly much more alert.

“Old Wu! Old Wu are you here?” His father pulls the door open, and immediately there are three or four young men piling in. It is too dark to really see their faces, but it is the way they hold themselves, it is the hat they wear, their pride, their arrogance, everything about them that makes Yifan instinctively shuffle closer to his father defensively, instantly alert.

“These old bones can’t be up so late.” Yifan’s father says, voice level, “What is the matter?”

“Is your wife in?” The leader of the group demands, “Squadron leader Zhou requests her assistance.”

“Of course.” Yifan’s father answers, “But she has been stricken ill. Does Squadron leader Zhou need her right now?”

“Immediately,” the younger man replies hotly, eyes far too piercing considering the time of day. His father’s shoulders heave, but Yifan’s mother has already been awoken by the rubble, and is emerging from the room in clothes acceptable for outerwear.

Yifan doesn’t like the thought of his mother going alone, and he reaches out to support her, but the squadron member barks at him.

“She is bed-ridden.” Yixing says gently, “Please do not deny her the care of her son.”

“Young man, she is requested for Squadron leader Zhou’s inspection precisely to investigate her illness allegations.” The squadron member sneers, finally running out of patience, “Now move along before you waste even more of our Squadron leader’s time.

“Then, perhaps you will let us come along?” Yixing probes, and Yifan blends further into the shadows.

The squadron members exchange glances, and finally one says, “You are not Old Wu’s eldest, are you?”

“We are all comrades, are we not?” Yixing answers, and Yifan takes a few steps forward. The squadron members’ piercing gaze lands on him, and he fights the urge to shirk back again. Then Yixing’s comforting presence is drawing close, lending him strength, helping him regain his pacing.

“It is just a small request,” he manages to stutter out. 

“Please.” His father adds.

The squadron members exchange glances to one another again, and finally, one of them nods. A rush of air comes out from Yifan’s chest, and this time he reaches out for his mother. She is trembling minutely, her lips and cheeks bloodless.

They have a mule-drawn cart, but there’s not enough space, so Yixing, Yifan, and his father walk behind the cart, while one of the girls in the squadron help support Yifan’s mother.

The office is filled with the disgusting stench of tobacco, which makes Yifan wrinkle his nose slightly. Squadron leader Zhou sits behind the largest desk, the source of the smoke. He seems to have put on even more weight then when Yifan last saw him.

His brows draw together when he sees Yifan, his father, and Yixing in tow, but gestures for Yifan’s mother to sit down across the desk.

“Madam Wu.” Squadron leader Zhou drawls, eyes darting sporadically to the figure of Yixing behind her, “We appreciate your cooperation.”

Yifan’s mother mumbles words too low for anyone to catch, uncharacteristically quiet. “We have summoned you after a comrade reported to us that they were worried about your sudden... ailment. May I enquire how you contracted it?”

“I... I don’t know, Squadron leader Zhou,” Yifan’s mother answers hesitantly, “I woke up yesterday morning with this... fever all over my body. It may be... my lung issue from... a year ago.”

The squadron leader frowns and leans back on his chair. “You must see a doctor, Madam Wu.”

“We lack the funds, sir,” Yifan’s father is the one that answers, “The doctor we can afford is a good four villages away, and none of us can leave the fields for that long.”

Squadron leader Zhou frowns. “You claim to be sick, yet do not desire to see a doctor. Comrade, this is not appropriate behaviour. If you are ill, then we are happy to arrange for Doctor Lin from the village over to come to you. We will need some compensation for his boarding and travels, of course.”

Yifan feels Yixing stiffen behind him.

“Fifty yuan.” Squadron leader Zhou drawls.

“B...but Doctor Lin only charges twenty-five!” Yifan’s father answers in shock, “And travels but two!”

“Are you questioning my judgement, old man?” Squadron leader Zhou spits out, and Yifan’s father instantly cowers back. 

“You will either have your wife see a doctor, old man, or I will be forced to launch an inquiry into whether or not you are only fearful that a doctor will reveal that your wife is faking her ailment, so that your family can avoid meeting your quota at the end of this harvest season. Surely you know the severity of that crime.” The ends of Squadron leader Zhou’s mouth curls up with satisfaction as cold sweat seizes Yifan.

A sob lurches out of Yifan’s mother, and he falls onto his knees by her side helplessly, letting her bury her face into his shoulder. His father is trying to argue, trying to talk back, but his voice is failing him, stuttered and broken. If the Squadron leader launches an inquiry, their whole family could be ruined. They have no one to back them up here, and evidence is as easily found as fabricated. 

Either pay fifty, when they could not even afford twenty-five, or possibly be deported to labour work for years.

“How dare you.”

Yixing’s voice cuts through the commotion, and silence falls.

“How dare you call yourself a loyal comrade when you exhibit such despicable behaviour?” Yixing’s fury is cold and righteous, and he walks forward until he is right across Squadron leader Zhou, leaning over his desk. “Your fellow comrade is suffering and finding difficulty to complete her task, yet you, as the role model of this village, does nothing to help her, instead you create more problems? You are meant to be the ideological representative, you are meant to educate your fellow comrades!

“Have we forgotten to be just?” Yixing continues furiously, “Have we forgotten that we are to do as much only as we are able to, and not just blindly fostering quotas onto our brothers and sisters? How dare you sit here in your comfortable office while your brothers and sisters labour outside? You are not more privileged than them, and you are not doing as much as you are able to, but take more than you need!”

The squadron leader stares at Yixing, sweat beading on his forehead. Yifan’s mother has stifled her sobs into faint whimpers, also wide-eyed at Yixing’s outburst. For the past six months that Yixing had stayed with them, the young man had been nothing but cordial to everyone. 

Finally the squadron leader’s eyes drop onto the cigar tray on his table, blinking furiously. “Of, of course, young man, of- of course. I am simply concerned for Madam Wu’s health, I was. I will see to it that Doctor Lin comes to the village. The party will pay for his boarding and travels, of course, it is our duty.”

Yixing takes a step back, the fiery creature that had emerged just now withdrawn back. “Thank you for your generosity, Squadron Leader.” He smiles, and Yifan quickly echoes it.

Yifan is still in a daze when they get back to their house. He had never seen anyone like that who had been able to talk back - no, talk down the squadron like that. Yixing fit into his life so well that he often forgot that Yixing was an educated party member from the city.

Yifan’s mother is still shaken, and he helps his father tuck her to bed. When he leaves his parent’s bedroom, Yixing is leaning against the wall, concern in his expression.

“Thank you so much.” Yifan says fiercely, pulling the other man into a quick embrace. “I will do anything in my power to repay your kindness.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yixing laughs lightly, “Your parents have been exceptionally gracious to me. That is the little I can do to repay their hospitality. Although... Would you care to join me for  a drink, then?”

Excessive alcohol drinking is discouraged, but this is a village in the middle of nowhere, and excess wheat is best made use of in jars of rice wine. They retreat to Yifan’s room, using the bedside table to put the jug and their cups as they sit on the bed.

With spice and warmth curled at the bottom of his stomach, Yifan finds conversation comes easily with Yixing. It always had, but it seems even more carefree, even lighter tonight, as if in anticipation of something. The memory of what Yixing had done for his family in front of the squadron leader and for the past six months makes Yifan feel light in the head. A bit giddy in the heart, even, though he finds himself unable to explain where it comes from. 

Yixing shares with him stories about his education in the city, the drills he went through in the army. Yifan asks, and Yixing talks about when he trained alongside Sehun. Then, wistfully, Yixing mentions that he had always wanted to show Sehun the city.

“You won’t stay here forever, right?” Yifan asks, when both of them have had a jug of wine in each of their stomachs, and a third being shared between them. 

Yixing chuckles lightly, “Why, do you not want me to be here?”

“Of course not!” Yifan is quick to dissuade, “But you belong to the city.”

“That’s right.” Yixing replies. “But I like you too much, Yifan, I want to stay here for as long as I can.”

Something skips inside Yifan’s heart and he tries his best to laugh it off, but it comes out choked.

“Sehun had the same reaction when I told him I desired him, you know.” Yixing’s tone is airy and gentle, as if he is making a joke, but it is also a sentence that teeters at the precipice, ready to tumble down.

“You... wanted him?” Yifan asks, his voice trembling slightly, “For what?”

“I desired him, Yifan,” Yixing says this in amusement, his eyes crinkling up at the edges, two deep dimples on his face, “And he desired me as well.”

“You had a sexual relationship with Sehun?” Yifan repeats, disbelieving.

“Yes.” Yixing meets his gaze, as if digging into the depths of Yifan’s heart, nurturing a seed that Yifan had not known existed, taking root, blooming, and Yifan tries to cull it before it grows too radiant.

“You’re a freak,” He spits out, but the words are shaky and unsure.

“I’m as much as you are,” Yixing returns, but his smile is slipping.

“I’m not a freak like you.” His voice raises, trembling, shutting everything out.

“And your brother!”

“You led him astray!” Yifan hurls at him.

“Your brother’s dead!” Yixing shouts back, “What are you so mad about?”

“You fucking corrupted him!” Yifan rebuked, his temper bubbling up incredulously. A strange sense of guilt and shame began to rise in his chest. “He was supposed to be fucking serving the country, doing his duty as man, fighting the war!”

“What fucking war?” Yixing explodes, a boiling kettle going off, “It’s not fucking war! It’s fucking slaughter! Afraid to take even one step forward lest a bomb go in our faces! Who the fuck are you to judge what we do out there?”

Then it is as if all the fight goes out of both of them, and they lean back unanimously.

“Was it the war?” Yifan asks into empty air.

“We won the war.” Yixing shakes his head. “That’s what matters. Who do you think we were praying to, when we were out there? Not our Chairman, that’s for sure.

“It was... a sudden affair. Everything happens suddenly, when you’re out there. We were just walking through the forest, looking for other troops to reconvene with, and then suddenly there’s bullet flying in your direction.

“He... Sehun, Sehun was right next to me. We were walking together. He said... He told me I must try your mother’s cooking. He said he missed it a lot.”

“He used to complain about it all the time.” Yifan’s voice is hoarse, but Yixing doesn’t seem to notice. “Always complained that the Ling family cooked much better food.”

“Well, you got what you got.” Yixing smiles faintly. “I think your mother’s cooking is absolutely delicious.”

They are quiet for a long while, and then Yifan gathers the courage to speak again.

“Did... did you actually make a promise to Sehun?” He mumbles.

“Yes and no.” Yixing laughs. “I don’t think he ever considered that a city boy like me would really go trekking and find this village. But he did... we did talk about coming here, after the war was over. The way he said it, it was like there were some three-headed beast here, phoenixes of the old. Gold popping up from the ground.” A wry smile, then, “Your brother always had a great sense of humour.”

“Oh, I won’t be too sure of that.” Yifan smiles back. Closing his eyes, he gathers the words. “I’m sorry for... blowing up on you. I am glad Sehun had you in his last days.”

“Oh, I was lucky to have him. We weren’t really... in love.” Yixing muses, pouring the alcohol out for Yifan. “I loved him, but it was one of comrades. The physical part came much later, when all we had was each other.”

Yifan raises his cup, downs it. His brain is getting even more fuzzy. 

“Could you... show me?” Yifan asks, his voice in a whisper, as if speaking louder would break the thin veil that now forms their world. “Show me how a man can love a man.”

Yixing’s words, too, are quiet, a low rumble of thunder in the distance. “Of course.”

Their breaths are hot against one another, Yifan getting even more drunk on the alcohol from Yixing. Warm fingers cupped Yifan’s shoulder, sensual, suggestive, and Yifan’s hands are trembling as they land on Yixing’s waist.

A sharp chuckle. “You’re learning fast.” Yixing murmurs, and Yifan can feel the tremors underneath his hands. He had never held a woman before, but he supposed it was very different to how Yixing would feel like. Yixing was solid, rigid, a firm anchor.

Something hot and moist against his jaw, gentle, then Yixing is so very close, his eyes looking into Yifan’s as their mouths finally meet. 

Yifan had never kissed a girl before, let alone a man, and upon first touch, he can no longer remember how it used to be, because kissing Yixing is just right. It’s a warm bubbly feeling in his chest as Yixing coaxes their tongues together, sensuous and gentle, like grass swaying the wind on top of a hill. Calloused fingers lace into his hair, and Yifan follows the slight tug, tilting his head backward as Yixing kneels fully in his lap, a steady weight on top of him, bodies pressed close.

They undress without hurry. They have seen each other’s bare skin before, but now, with the knowledge of the sin they are about to commit, Yifan’s breathing is laboured and weighted, as if savouring every moment that he is pure, before he is to be defiled with lust.

“Should I switch off the lights?” Yixing murmurs. Yifan’s nod is but a fraction of movement, and the younger man reaches out and flicks the lights off.

Once they are off, however, Yifan regrets it slightly. His embarrassment is hidden, but he is also left with the feeling of insecurity, as if he is unanchored. Then Yixing is pushing him back onto the bed, and he drowns in it.

Every touch leaves fire on his skin, his sense heightened as his vision is deprived. Hot lips on his own, stealing his breath away. It is with a degree of urgency Yixing moves now, fingers exploring the canvas of Yifan’s body, setting every nerve alight as Yifan lays there, fingers clenched in the bed sheets as he is torn between succumbing to the pleasure and fighting these foreign feelings. The jug of wine is still open, a faint smell of alcohol seeping into the cracks of the room.

Naked skin and muscles, small, breathy moans. Yixing touches him in places Yifan had not known could bring him pleasure. Limbs brushing past one another as their desire for one another burns them up.

The hard planes of the male body, so unlike that of a woman. Yifan had never thought  _ that _ part of a man could be used for sexual pleasure, never knew that he would find a man blushing and panting as his buried fingers in himself attractive.

The night is long and it draws on in the sweetest of pleasures. 

If laying with a man was wrong, Yifan is willing to go to Hell to have experienced it.

 

//

 

The air is crisp and cold. The harvest is almost ready, and soon wheat will be sown again. 

They wake up in the morning acting like nothing had happened. There’s a slightly odd gait in Yixing’s walk when he slips out of Yifan’s room, but neither of them points it out. 

“I am going to continue to practice medicine.” Yixing explains, the dimple on his face deepening, “My father’s letter yesterday informed me that the Party is going to sponsor my education, so I must return.”

“Congratulations.” Yifan replies, patting him on the back. The words ring sincere, true, and Yixing smiles up at him bashfully.

“Yes, a man’s vision must be in the big wide world.” Yifan’s father looks pleased as well, and the two of them help Yixing carries his bags to the peddler and his horse-drawn cart, who does the trips to the nearest train that leads them to the city.

“Thank you for having me for so long,” Yixing says, bowing, “I will remember this hospitality with my life.”

“I wish you the best of futures, young Yixing,” Yifan’s father says gravely, removing his hat and nodding back. “You make your family proud.”

Yixing’s smile widens. “I will write.” he promises, but then the peddler is ringing his bell impatiently. The other people on board seem disgruntled as well.

“Go ahead,” Yifan’s father says, putting his hat back on. “Sehun and Yifan are blessed to have a friend like you.”

“No, it is I who is honoured.” Yixing answers, but Yifan’s father just laughs and waves his hand dismissively, as if in disbelief.

“I must go, Yifan.” Yixing turns to the other man. “Take care of yourself.”

“You take care of yourself, Yixing,” Yifan said, “Be careful.”

The peddler rings his bell again, and Yixing pats Yifan on the shoulder, before turning away to get on board of the cart.

He waves, and Yifan and his father waves back, until he is far away, a speck in the distance.

“Now, my son, perhaps we should once again talk about Li’s daughter.” His father says gruffly.

“Yes, father.” Yifan nods, giving the cart one last look before turning back home, squaring his shoulders to prepare once again for the feeling of loss.

**Author's Note:**

> Although never specified, the war mentioned is supposed to be the Vietnam War. I’m not sure what crops they yielded then in China though. I also know shit about farming. And Chinese-style communism.
> 
> They aren’t... in love. Not yet. Neither of them would allow their relationship to progress that far, knowing what it would meant for them. Yifan is very filial and would never do anything to harm his family. This was also why Yixing chose to leave the next day. Sometimes, memories are all you can protect.
> 
> Title comes from Next to Normal!


End file.
